


It's the Little Things that Matter

by TunaFishChris



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Civil War Fix-It, F/M, Gen, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Hurt/Comfort, Lucky the Dog - Freeform, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, POV Wanda Maximoff, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Self-Harm, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:12:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TunaFishChris/pseuds/TunaFishChris
Summary: Wanda has a lot of time to reflect and come to some decisions about herself during the Rogues' exile. When they're pardoned, she decides that she's going to make things right: with herself, with the team, and with the world.In other words, we have enough evil!Wanda and bitch!Wanda fics. So here's a complicated-snarky-hero-awesome Wanda fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, everyone, if you got a million notifications about this fic. Archive was being really finnicky and kept saying it couldn't upload the story, so I kept trying to upload the story again and again, and that led to eight copies of it being out, and then deleted, and then finally, this version.
> 
> This fic was inspired by a comment on my Peter & Wanda are BFFs series, asking for a Wanda-centric fic with some Okoye. And the plot bunny ran with it!
> 
> Also, fuck Infinity War.  
> Was it a great movie? Absolutely.  
> Will I pretend that it never happened and all of my babies are safe and sound? Absolutely. 
> 
> Concerning the self-harm tag: see end notes. Stay safe, y'all.

Wanda knew, intellectually, that she would probably die a horrible, violent, _painful_ death.

After Ultron, when she'd decided to become an Avenger, she'd signed the disclosure agreements and had a Pietro-sized hole in her heart. She'd known the risks and hadn't cared. Then, after the "civil war" and Wakanda and getting pardoned, when she'd had time to think it through and decided _yes, this is what I really, really want,_ she'd paid a little more attention to the fine print. 

But the idea of death, of her dying young, had seemed like a vague, distant possibility. She's already survived so much and was considered one of the "heavy hitters," one of the most powerful members of the Avengers. Anything that could kill her would be seen a mile away, right? 

Right. Well. Lying on the floor of an abandoned Stark Industries warehouse with a massive hole in her torso, Wanda could admit that--once again--she'd been very wrong. 

Bits of the Iron Man armor surrounded her, torn apart by her magic and desperation. Too late to save her, though. The repulsor blast to the gut had _hurt_ , and the pool of blood beneath her was growing with every heartbeat.

Black was already fringing at her vision. She had maybe a moment before she passed out, and there was something extremely important she had to do. With monumental effort, she raised her hands, locating the vibranium ring on her left middle finger. 

A gift from Shuri. And like all gifts from Shuri, this one had state-of-the-art technology. In this case, it was a beacon. A tracking device and mayday signal that would be sent to her "panther peeps," as Darcy had dubbed them: Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia. They would then be able to send her message on to the others. 

Wanda pressed the golden button on the ring twice to turn the beacon on, then again to turn if off. On, off. On, off. Again and again, until she'd tapped out the one-word message she needed to send, then left the beacon on.

They'd find her body. They'd find the scattered bits of the Iron Man armor and the text that had been sent to lure her here. And with the message she'd just sent out, they'd draw the appropriate conclusions. 

If they moved really fast, they might even be able to save her. But she wouldn't count on it. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to die, per se. But with all she'd done, all she'd lost, and the way she was leaving things now...well. 

She smiled as she passed out. Not the worst way to go.


	2. Chapter 2

\--  
\--ONE YEAR AGO--  
\--

Their last week in Wakanda was bittersweet. All the rogues were excited to return home, of course. Especially Scott and Clint. Sam had been craving greasy burgers for a long time. Wanda herself was giddy with relief. She was skipping through the halls when she almost tripped over Bucky, sitting cross-legged on the floor, glaring out the window at the jungle.

"What's wrong?" she asked. 

"Just...thinking." 

She sat on the floor next to him. "About?" 

He gave her the side-eye. They weren't exactly friends, especially after he'd learned that she'd willing joined with Hydra--albeit temporarily and only to pursue her own agenda with Pietro--but they had a truce between them. She'd fought for Steve where it mattered, after all. 

"We're getting our pardons this week," he'd said at length. 

"Yes..." 

"And we're going to be allowed back in the States, on the Avengers team, even living at your compound." 

"Yes..." 

"It's something you guys really want. What Steve really wants." 

Wanda gave a sympathetic smile. "What do you want, Bucky?" 

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he grumbled. "I want to stay with Steve. I've always had his back, and he's always had mine. But...I don't know if I want to go back to the States. That's not my home anymore. This is." 

"Wakanda? Really?" 

"The people here are fantastic, the food is delicious, the land itself is just...it's just..." 

"It's home," she said. 

"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "And I love it here. This is the first time in decades where I've been able to really be myself. Where everyone knows everything about me, not just the Sergeant Barnes part but the Winter Soldier part, and they're okay with it. They fixed it! And if I go back to the States, it's not going to be like that." 

"Are you scared?" 

"More like unwilling to have to deal with other people's bullshit," he grumbled. "T'Challa offered me a job. A good one: head of his spy agency. I _can_ stay here, I just don't know if I should." 

"Why shouldn't you?" 

"Stevie. He risked everything for me, and I'm not going with him?" 

Wanda risked putting a hand on Bucky's arm. "He risked everything so you would have a shot at a good life. You're the only one who gets to decide what that looks like. If he's your friend--truly your friend--then he won't try to pull you away from something you obviously love. You're a person separate from him, not a toy he can just drag around everywhere. Even if those Bucky Bears are really cute." 

He hummed, then nodded. "Yeah. Guess I'm just being chicken." He looked at her. "What about you? You staying with the Avengers?"

"Yup," she said, popping the p. 

"Why?" 

Now that was a complicated question. Just last year, when they'd escaped the Raft and arrived in Wakanda as exiles, Wanda had been spitting curses, condemning the Avengers in general and Tony Stark in particular, swearing that she was never going anywhere near the superhero business again. Ever since she'd gotten these powers, she'd been used for other people's agendas or vilified for trying to do the right thing. _No more_ , she'd sworn.

It'd taken a long time to realize that she was really just angry with herself. Angry with letting herself get used by others--like Hydra and Ultron--because she'd been too blinded by rage and hurt to see the bigger picture. Angry with herself for not having better control over her powers and creating unnecessary casualties. Angry with herself for escalating the "civil war" situation instead of at least trying to find a less violent approach to it. 

If she could do it over again, she'd still agree with Steve, still agree that the Accords were a bad idea. But she could have stayed at the compound, tried to talk to Stark about it, or convince Steve and Clint to find another way to go to Siberia. If nothing else, she could have knocked everyone out with her powers and locked them in the closet until they stopped acting like idiots. 

But that didn't cement her decision to re-join the Avengers. Queen Nakia did. 

Wakanda had given the rogues many blessings, but in particular to Wanda, they'd given her friends--unbiased, down-to-earth, no-nonsense friends--for the first time in years. The first had been Shuri. They were the closest in age, and Wanda had been drawn to the princess's designs. Not for their technology, but for the aesthetic. In her spare time, Wanda liked to make jewelry. Most of the rings, bracelets, and necklaces she wore were from her own hand. So she and Shuri collaborated on a handful of projects that provided a springboard for their friendship. 

Then there was Okoye, the badass Wanda aspired to be. At first, Wanda had hated her. Whenever things got tense between the rogues and the Wakandans, or even between the rogues amongst themselves, Okoye and the other Dora Milaje were there to break it up. She'd called them all children, irresponsible, and idiots on several occasions. It took months for Wanda to realize that the warrior may have had a point. Especially when Okoye had given her advice after a particularly nasty shouting match with Scott Lang: "Next time you fill your mouth with poison, stop and breathe first. Otherwise you make a bad situation worse." 

Wanda had a lot of experience making bad situations worse. 

So she'd tried it. The next time Steve had called her irresponsible and dangerous for sneaking out of the country for the weekend in order to see Vision, Wanda had breathed through the first insults that came to mind. Once her head was clear, she told him truthfully, "I've sacrificed enough for your friend. I refuse to sacrifice Vision." 

"He could tell Stark where we are!" Steve said. 

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Stark's known where we are ever since we got here. He's not an idiot. Or did you think SI's B.A.R.F. technology magically appeared in the labs for Bucky?" 

Vision had, of course, told her all of that ages ago, right before swearing that he would never turn her in (barring her trying to do something evil like take over the world, of course). 

That had been when she really started to understand the scope of the damage she'd caused. Especially with the anniversary of Pietro's death and the Battle of Sokovia. Would any of that had happened if she'd just...stopped? If she and Pietro had taken the blame for their parents' deaths away from Stark and to the men who'd actually fired the bomb, or the one who had illegally sold it? 

The shame made her want to hide in a hole for the rest of her life. She might have done it, too, if Nakia hadn't returned to Wakanda from a mission to marry T'Challa. 

Nakia was one of those rare people who were genuinely _good_ , who not only wanted to do good in the world but had the ability and motivation to act on it. She helped others on every level: from saving their lives at the risk of her own to pushing her king and country to help the world to helping a random stranger pick up the groceries they'd dropped on the street. And not for a rush or to assuage some guilt, but because it was just the right thing to do. She always looked so exasperated or confused when someone praised her for it, like praising her for brushing her teeth. Isn't that what people should be doing anyway? 

And because the spy/queen was close to Shuri, eventually she became friends with Wanda, too. And a source of valuable advice when the pardons for the rogues and compromise on the Accords became more and more likely. 

"Seems congratulations will soon be in order," Nakia had said to her. 

Wanda had replied with a listless hum. Which of course Nakia picked up on. "What's wrong?" 

Wanda, who had been twisting a necklace together, stilled her hands. "You know what I am. What I've done. It seems like every time I touch something it gets worse. Whether it's my powers getting out of control or thinking I'm doing the right thing only to get a thousand people killed...why the hell should I be pardoned, never mind become an Avenger?" 

Nakia sat next to her. "Well...how else are you going to make it right?" 

"Make it right?" Wanda echoed. 

"What exactly is your plan? To hide? Run from your problems? That's begging the tiger to bite you in the ass."

"But what if I return to the Avengers and make everything worse?" 

"We make mistakes to learn from them. Have you learned from yours?" 

"Ye-es," Wanda said at length. 

"Then make use of those lessons. Guilt means you're human, that you want to do better. So, do better." 

Wanda had chewed on that for weeks. Eventually, just in time for the pardons to be announced, she'd come to a decision. 

With Ultron, once she'd realized what the robot's plans actually were, she and Pietro had not hesitated to turn on him, to undo their mistake. They had put the planet at risk, so they helped save it. 

With "civil war," Wanda had participated in breaking the Avengers. Her lack of control had caused civilians to die when they should have been protected. Her anger had put her at the airport against Iron Man and his team. 

So, since she'd helped break the Avengers, she was going to help fix them. And she needed to be on the team to do that. 

Now, sitting with Bucky, she said, "I've made a lot of mistakes. This is my chance to fix them." 

"Won't be easy," he said. 

She chuckled. "When is it ever?" 

The beads around her wrist glowed. Shuri was calling her. Wanda stood and patted Bucky on the head. "Do what makes you happy, Bucky. That's what Steve really wants, anyway." 

She left him to ponder that and hurried to Shuri's lab. The princess held up a bag as soon as she saw her. "Really?" 

Wanda grinned. One of the culinary delights of Wakanda she'd discovered were yo-yos: round, macaroon-like candies that came in chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla. She devoured them any chance she got. To her shock, Shuri had never tried them before and had no interest to. So Wanda--with T'Challa and Nakia's help--had taken hundreds bags of them and taped them to every surface of her lab, including the ceiling. Telekinetic powers came in handy. 

"Just try one," she urged. 

"Yeah, yeah. Later. I wanted to give you something before you go." The princess held up a black ring with golden stubs around it. 

Intrigued, Wanda took it and tried it on. "Very pretty. I love the colors; they'll go with anything."

"It's also a beacon," Shuri explained. "Press this button twice..." She pressed it, and Shuri's computer screen turned red. "This alerts me, Nakia, and Okoye. It's a distress signal that automatically gives us your location. Press it twice again to turn it off."

Wanda did, and the computer returned to normal. "Thank you. But...why?" 

"Because people hate you and I worry." 

"...point." Wanda hugged her. "Thank you." 

\--

Steve wasn't thrilled about Bucky staying. That much was clear. But after a token protest, he didn't argue it, which was more important. He gave Bucky a tight hug and then boarded the plane for the States with the rest of the ex-rogues. 

When they touched down, it was a circus. Media, supporters, and a handful of protestors.

And, of course, the other Avengers. 

Wanda resisted the urge to run up to Vision. They both restrained themselves to smiling at each other. Colonel Rhodes was in his dress uniform, standing with the help of his bracers. Natasha was there with her new hairstyle: a platinum blond that was cute, though Wanda missed the crimson curls. Even Spider-Man was there, trying to look imposing in his new suit and instead looking adorable. 

Tony Stark was all smiles for the cameras, shaking Steve's hand and returning the shield as soon as he was off the plane. He refused to answer any of the reporters' questions, saying loudly, "Let's get you home to sleep off the jet lag, guys." 

It did not escape Wanda's notice that Stark put himself in a separate limo from theirs. 

They did return to the compound to sleep off the jet lag. When they got up the next day, that's when they noticed the little things. 

Wanda stashed some yo-yos in the communal kitchen, though kept most of them in her closet. (Shuri had given her literally boxes of the things, so she was set for at least a year.) As she was opening the cupboards, Clint called from the other room, "Can you get me a beer?"

Wanda opened the fridge and scanned the shelves. "There isn't any." 

Clint poked his head through the door. "What?" 

"No beer." 

His eyebrows scrunched together. "Seriously? Tony's always made sure there was a six-pack in there for me." 

"Well, maybe he just doesn't want that spider-boy to get his hands on it. I don't think he's legal drinking age." But even as she said it, Wanda didn't think that was true. Looking around the kitchen again, she noticed that a lot of the ex-rogues' favorite foods--Sam's strawberry pop-tarts, Steve's crappy cereal, her own chocolate bars--were no longer there. With a man like Stark, who always made sure his shelves were stocked and had an AI organize routine grocery runs, that was unheard of. 

Steve stormed into the kitchen, grumbling. Clint stiffened. "What's wrong?" 

"Stark won't let me into the workshop. Says I don't have clearance."

Another oddity. Before, even _Wanda_ had been to the workshop, when Stark had asked if there was any gear she needed. (She'd said no, telling him that she didn't need anything from the Merchant of Death. She regretted that now. Not the rejection itself, because she truly didn't need any gear, but how she'd handled it. Was it so hard just to say, “No, thank you”?) 

Of course, the man's workshop was his sanctuary. The place where he went to feel safe. Where only people he trusted were allowed. 

"FRIDAY?" Wanda called. 

"Yes, Miss Maximoff?" the AI replied. 

"Can you tell us who, specifically, now has access to Stark's workshop?" 

"Boss himself, of course. Miss Pepper Potts and Colonel James Rhodes have near-unlimited access. Spider-Man and Mr. Vision are allowed when the Boss is there, too." 

"That's it?" 

"That's it, Miss." Was it just Wanda, or did FRIDAY's tone seem rather stand-offish? 

Wanda gave her sweetest smile to the camera. "Thank you, FRIDAY." 

"Why not Natasha?" Clint asked. "She fought for him at the airport."

"And then betrayed him at the last moment," Wanda replied. 

Steve stiffened. "That wasn't betrayal. That was--"

"It was betrayal, Steve," she cut off. "And your fake, written apology--yes, I know about that--doesn't nearly begin to cover it. Not that, and certainly not the mess you made in Siberia." 

"I was trying to protect--"

"Save it. I'm not the one you need to explain yourself to. It's a miracle that Stark has exerted so much effort into making sure we're here without chains, _and_ putting a roof over our heads. He doesn't owe us anything." 

"He didn't pardon us, that was the president," Clint argued. 

"Actually..." Rhodes strolled into the kitchen, not bothering to look at them as he grabbed a banana from the counter. "He's spent the last several months calling every favor he has all around the world. If he hadn't, the president wouldn't have bothered." He looked at Wanda, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "How did you know that?"

Right. The suspicious looks were going to take some getting used to. She'd gotten a lot of them right after Ultron, understandably. The ex-Rogues had since relaxed around her. Seemed that Team Iron Man hadn't, and wouldn't in the near future. 

"Vision," she replied. 

"Mm." Rhodes left. She did, too, heading for the gym so she could blow something up. The work-out dummies used to be a variety of colors, usually hand-painted by Stark with hilarious stick figures. Now, they were a boring, industrial grey. 

Wanda remembered, as she started her workout, something her mother had taught her: it was the little things that made life. The little things made relationships work. You could marry a beautiful girl with an extravagant wedding, give her fancy gifts every Valentine's Day and birthday, and take her on cruises around the world. But if you didn't listen to her troubles, didn't compromise with her, or didn't remember that she preferred chicken to hamburger, then you'd be looking at a divorce in short order. The little things showed that you cared.

Stark had no problem with the big things. He excelled at them. Securing pardons, updating the compound, shucking out millions of dollars and hours of labor on their gear, those were big things. Easy things. Things that were required to keep the world safe, things that required no more thought or effort once they were done. But the little things? That was a whole other ballpark. 

By the end of her workout, Wanda realized exactly what her mission was. What she had to do to make things right between her and the Avengers she'd wronged. She had to start with the little things. 

But first, she had to have a talk with Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the self-harm starts. (last paragraph)

"FRIDAY, where's Tony?" 

"In his room, Miss Maximoff." 

"Sleeping?" 

"No."

"Tell him I need to talk to him, and it's important." 

She'd waited until the compound was mostly empty. Clint and Scott had returned to their families. Scott wasn't even an Avenger, having refused the position. Clint was on-call. Natasha was on a mission. Steve was working through some stuff with Fury and the new SHIELD. Sam was at the VA. Spider-Man was...somewhere. She actually didn't know where or who he was, he was so rarely here and always in costume. Vision was floating around, and so was Stark.

Half a minute later, Tony Stark was in the living room with her. He raised an eyebrow. "Problem, Maximoff?"

She jerked her head to the window. "Do you want to go for a walk? So no one interrupts us." 

"I'm good here." 

Translation: _I'm good where my omnipresent AI can keep an eye on us and make sure I don't get attacked by crazy powers._

Wanda nodded and sat on the loveseat. "Okay. Um..." Wow. This was a lot easier in her head.

Stark made an impatient sound. "Come on. Spit it out."

She huffed. "Right. Well. First: I'm sorry." 

He sighed. "What did you break? Was it the toaster? It just gets jammed from time to time. Give it five minutes--"

"I'm sorry I invaded your mind and manipulated you into creating Ultron," she blurted. His mouth shut with an audible _click_. 

Now that she’d started, the words were a torrent that she couldn't stop: "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were trying to protect me when you put me under house arrest and broke out with Clint. I'm sorry I fought against you at the airport instead of trying to talk things through like we all should have been doing. I'm sorry I've been treating you like a monster."

When he didn't say anything, just stared at her blankly, she continued: "Pietro and I, we spent so long hating you. Years and years of it. And it had nothing to do with you. We were angry at _everything_ when we lost our parents, our country, and you were an easy target. Now, I've spent so long doing it, that I...it's going to take some time to unlearn that." She shrugged. "That's it. I'm sorry, and I'm trying." 

He continued to stare at her, then gave a sharp nod. "Right. Good talk. I've got--stuff. Stuff to do. Yeah. Bye." 

"Tony," she called before he could flee. 

"What?" he snapped. 

"Can I call you Tony?" she asked. 

"Why?" 

"It humanizes you," she said simply. "Reminds me that you're an actual person and not a distant figure I've been hating for most of my life." 

The sound he made was somewhere between a huff and a chuckle. "Sure. Whatever, Maximoff." 

He fled. 

Wanda leaned back in her seat with a groan. That had honestly been the best case scenario for that conversation. She'd half-expected to get her head torn off. 

Vision floated through the walls. "I just saw Mr. Stark leave. Everything all right?" 

"Getting there." She sat up and smiled. "Wanna get out of here?" 

"Please." He offered his arm. She took it.

\--

Dating Vision was an experience. Technically, they'd been dating for six months, sneaking out of their respective countries and meeting up all over the world for a fortnight here, a weekend there. It had been exciting, dangerous. Now, it was sweet. 

Being so young (which Wanda tried hard not to think about, since it led to the inevitable conclusion that she was technically dating a four-year-old), Vision had zero dating experience. Luckily, Wanda also had no dating experience, barring the ill-fated kiddie romance she’d had in middle school. So they were both winging it. He got her a box of chocolates. She decorated her entire bedroom with roses and candles for a romantic evening. He took her on a flight through the city. She made a list of movies they absolutely had to watch, an activity that normally dissolved into make-out sessions. They both put themselves through hand-to-hand combat training, and then also signed up for knitting club on Tuesdays because why not? Neither of them knew how to do it, so they learned. 

They did all the cheesy things. They did their own weird things. And Wanda was relieved, so very relieved, that out of everything she had fucked up so far, this was not one of them. 

"You're cheating," he accused, pouting at her as she used her magic to put her jewelry together. It was the only way she could get the more delicate pieces to fit together. 

He'd asked her to teach him how to make jewelry, so she was. Now she was just teasing him. 

"What's the issue?" she asked. 

He showed her the problem he was having with the metalworking of a bracelet. She re-adjusted his fingers, helping him mold the pieces together...

"Ack!" Vision dropped the metal, blood dripping onto the table. 

Wanda immediately took his hands, looking over the cut. The metal had slipped, and its edges had been sharp as a knife. It was deeper than your average papercut, but not threatening. She still felt guilty. 

"Let me see if I can..." Scarlet tendrils whispered through her fingers as she willed the skin and flesh back together. 

To her surprise, it worked. 

Vision put his finger under the light, looking it over. All that was left was a thin, faded scar. "Well done," he praised.

That was when Wanda got an idea.

\--

It takes a strange sort of courage to hurt yourself. Wanda had to psych herself up for at least three whole minutes before finally being able to dig the blade into her leg. She created four deep, but not worrying cuts near her right ankle, bracing her foot against the bathtub. Tossing the boxcutter in the sink, she started on her magic. 

It wasn't like her telekinesis. She could feel the life in her flesh and blood, how it wanted to heal and was already starting to knit itself back together, albeit slowly, too slowly for the naked eye to catch. The trick was using her magic to accelerate the process. Like with the rest of her powers, it helped to have a hand motion to go with it, and it took her about half an hour to find the right one: fingers together, moving her hand back and forth a little bit like the tail of a fish. Soon she had four neatly-healed scars on her leg. 

She grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animal cruelty. But don't worry, Wanda saves the day. :)

Their first mission since the pardons was awkward. 

There was very little banter on the coms. Before, Steve would never be able to get anyone to shut up. Now, Clint's jokes fell flat and Tony's sarcastic responses were almost non-existent, only occasionally poking fun at their villain of the day. In this case, a shoot-off of Hydra called the Sons of Hydra, hidden in plain sight in an office building in Boston. As Tony had dubbed it, it was Hydra's sexist boy band. 

Near the end, Natasha yelped. Vision gave a curt, "Black Widow is down." 

Wanda was closest to her. She hurried to the spy as she was peeling herself off of the ground, blood oozing from the bullet wound on her shoulder. "I'm fine," she huffed. 

"You will be," Wanda promised, leading her to cover behind a car. Using telekinesis, she yanked the bullet straight out, eliciting a grunt from Natasha. Then she healed the wound. It took longer than she'd expected, as it wasn't exactly the same as a shallow cut. But within seven minutes, Natasha had full mobility of her arm back. 

She marveled at it, then gave Wanda a genuine smile. "Thanks."

Wanda beamed. 

\--

After the fight, Wanda stuck around to help the construction crews put the street back together. While the fight had started in the building, it had spilled onto the street. The collateral was a few hundred thousand in street repairs, car insurance, and several broken windows. At least there were no human casualties. 

The rest of the team had tried to talk her into leaving with them, Tony even mentioning that he'd be writing a check in the morning. She'd refused. She'd helped make the mess, she was going to clean it up. As for accommodations, she'd use her own money to catch a motel for the night. An off-hand comment from Shuri about how she should sell her jewelry had inspired her to open an Etsy shop a few weeks ago. To her surprise, she'd already managed to make a few hundred. Apparently being an Avenger was good publicity, even when they had bad publicity. 

The police officers and construction crews were surprised when she offered to help, but quickly got over it and asked her to do some of the heavy-lifting with her powers. She did it without complaint. 

A few hours into it, Russian swearing pulled her attention away. Two men who apparently owned one of the crushed cars she hadn't gotten to yet were glaring at something golden and red on the ground. "Damn mutt broke its legs and lost an eye," one of them said. He spat. "Useless thing. I'm not dropping a thousand dollars for a vet." 

"Just leave him," his friend said. 

Wanda walked over and saw the gold was the fur of a dog, and the red was its blood. It whined when the men walked away, trying to follow them. The first man turned and kicked the dog in the ribs. 

Wanda reached out with her powers, grabbing the man and throwing him into the brick wall of the nearest building. He shouted and swore as he fell. His companion rounded on her. "What the hell, bitch?" 

"Shut up," she ordered, kneeling next to the dog. She held out her hand. "Hey, sweetie."

He was in rough shape. Blood oozed out of where his left eye had once been. He could sit up and shuffle around a little, but both left legs were broken. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd cracked a couple of ribs, too. He sniffed her hand, tail giving two half-hearted thumps. 

"Do you...have any idea...who I am?" huffed the Russian she'd thrown into the wall, dragging himself to his feet. 

What few civilians were around had their phones out, recording. Wanda took a deep breath, parsing through all the possible responses. 

"I said," he snapped, "do you know who I am?"

Fuck diplomacy. She turned and smiled at him. "I know you're a piece of shit who kicked an injured dog and left him for dead. And given your tattoos, I'm guessing Russian mafia, as well. Now..." She stood, and let scarlet tendrils flow around her hands. "Do you know who _I_ am?"

Russian #2 pulled back his jacket, revealing a pistol in his pants. "Listen, girlie, we don't want--"

She used her magic to snatch the pistol away, unloading it and tossing it aside just like Nat had taught her. Then she grabbed the two of them and pushed them several feet down the sidewalk. "Keep walking, gentlemen. There's a big enough mess on this street without adding your filth to it." 

As soon as she released her magic's hold on them, they scrambled away. Rolling her eyes, Wanda turned back to the dog. Then to a local, who still had his phone out. "Do you know where the nearest vet is?" 

\--

"Tony, I know I have no right to ask this, but..."

"Fine. Bring the mutt." 

She grinned, almost crushing the phone. "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you for making my job so much easier." 

Wanda paused in stirring the dog-friendly muffin batter. The girl standing in the Avengers compound kitchen was someone she had never seen before: slightly taller than her, dark brown hair, and a plucky outfit. She was petting Lucky the dog, who had taken up a lot of space on Wanda's Instagram and Twitter pages, and who was constantly being plied with treats by everyone on the team. See above: dog-friendly muffins. 

"You are...?" she asked. 

"Darcy Lewis. I work with PR. Used to intern with Jane Foster, but that was Asguardians and astrophysics. Now I'm finally putting my poly-sci major to use. It's just a part-time job, mostly making pro-Avengers memes and replying to comments. But, you know. It works." 

"And I made your job easier?" That sounded so alien Wanda had to repeat it just to make sure she hadn’t misheard. 

"With the adoption of Lucky here? Absolutely,” Darcy said. “This sounds horrible, but people didn't really think of you as an actual person until then. But then the video of you showing those mobsters who was boss came out, and then all the pictures of Lucky, so now everyone's like, 'Oh, yeah. Superheroes are people, too.' Definitely helps your PR image. Are you making cupcakes?" 

"Uh...dog-friendly muffins. But humans can eat them, too. Wanna help?" 

"If by 'help' you mean 'lick the bowl,' then yes." 

\--

Thus began Wanda's friendship with Darcy. The other girl came by at least once a week, usually in the evening, often to bug Wanda. Whenever she was around, they usually ended up baking. Because Darcy loved sweets, Wanda loved cooking, and they could gossip for ages. Half the time they set up a skype connection, which was how Wanda introduced her to Shuri, Nakia, and Okoye, which Darcy called the “panther peeps.” One of them (usually Shuri) was always available to chat if they timed it right. 

"You're so good at this," Darcy said one night, slurping down her strawberry soup with chocolate chips. "How are you good at this? I burn water." 

"My papa was a baker," Wanda explained. "Used to work as a chef in a restaurant, too. It was how he convinced my mother to date him. He said the best way to someone's heart is through their stomach."

"Then call me in love," Darcy said, finishing her soup.

Wanda barely heard her. She'd had another revelation. 

Her father had always believed that good food was magical. It brought people together. 

So, whenever she and Darcy whipped up a batch of cookies, or a pie, or a cake, Wanda would snap a picture of it and announce to the rest of the Avengers that it was up for grabs. Usually, it was gone in ten minutes. But it established a pattern. Everyone knew that when Darcy was there, there would be dessert. Rhodes would usually linger in the kitchen and score extra helpings in exchange for helping Wanda with the dishes. Steve would come to collect a bite, and stick around to chat with Sam and Nat.

Then Vision decided he wanted to get back into cooking. Actual meals, that is. Not just dessert. Wanda showed him what she knew, then grabbed some new recipes from the internet when those ran out. It became a couple's thing for them. Every Friday--barring missions--they would go to the market and get what they needed, return to the compound loaded with groceries, spend the afternoon cooking, and have a big meal ready for the Avengers by six. Steve liked to eat his traditionally at a table, and he usually suckered Wanda, Vision, and Sam into joining him. Rhodes would get a plate for himself, sometimes two so he could bring something down to Tony. Natasha usually snatched something to eat in front of the television. If Clint was around, he joined her. 

And if Clint was around in the mornings, he made breakfast. It came as a shock when Wanda woke one morning, stumbling into the common area bleary-eyed, to find a stack of pancakes and bacon waiting for her. The man loved to cook breakfast. It reminded her so much of her father that it hurt. But it was another excuse to get the Avengers together, even if for only a little bit. 

The biggest thorn was Tony. He rarely came out to get some of her food. Wanda didn't know if it was an Avengers thing, a Wanda thing, or a Tony thing. When she asked Rhodes point-blank, he shrugged and said, "A little of all three. He's always been like this, cloistering himself in the workshop for days on end. Half of the time, he subsists on coffee, smoothies, and snacks." 

Wanda frowned. That wasn't very healthy. Though it did inspire her birthday present for the man a month later. He left for California with Rhodes to celebrate with Miss Potts. Wanda didn't know if anyone else was getting him something, and she didn't really care. 

(She later found out that nobody else on “Team Cap” bothered to even wish him happy birthday and were all surprised when they found out she had actually gotten him a gift. She didn’t know why; she made sure to get a little something for _every_ Avenger: jewelry for Nat and Darcy, a scarf for Sam, a funny military t-shirt for Rhodes, etc.)

"FRIDAY, can you tell me Tony's favorite snacks?" she asked. 

"Blueberries, nuts, granola bars, and oatmeal raisin cookies, which is just an abomination," a young male voice that was definitely not FRIDAY answered. 

"Thanks," Wanda said, looking the newcomer up and down. A teenager with fluffy brown hair and a wiry build. His voice was infuriatingly familiar. "Do I know you?"

"Uh...not really. I'm Peter, Mr. Stark's intern." 

It clicked. She pointed at him with a grin. "You're Spider-Man!" 

His eyes widened. "Whaaaaaaat? No..." 

"Yes, you are. I recognize your voice." 

He groaned. "Yeah, fine. But keep it down, okay? Secret identity and all that." 

"Sure, sure. Do you have your webs on you?" 

"Why?" 

She explained her plan. His whole face brightened. "We can get what we need at the Dollar Tree for crazy cheap! Come on." 

They got a wide variety of Tony's favorite snacks, then took their bagged goodies to the workshop. Predictably, they couldn't get in. Instead, they used Peter's webs to stick all of them to his door, covering it from top to bottom until every inch was covered. They stuck a card on top saying, _Happy Birthday! --Wanda & Peter_

\--

Weeks later, Wanda found Tony in the kitchen, making himself coffee and chomping on one of the granola bars she and Peter had left him. She smiled, then frowned at his coffee. "Did you just put sugar in that?" 

"Just a teaspoon. Sometimes I'll add cream." 

She made a face. "I take it back. I'm going back to hating you now." 

For a terrifying moment, she thought she'd crossed the line with her joke. Then Tony snorted. "You take it black?" 

"That's how it was meant to be drunk."

"Ugh. You and Rhodey." He left the kitchen. Wanda fixed up her own mug of coffee, smiling. It was just a little conversation, but she couldn't recall ever having one of those with Tony before.

\--

A few days later, Wanda went down to the workshop with a small ziploc bag of the chocolate fruit bars she'd made that night while arguing about _Game of Thrones_ with Darcy and Okoye. She stuck it to the door of the shop. 

The week after that, it was blueberry muffins. 

The week after that, glazed popcorn. 

The week after that...


	6. Chapter 6

Wanda mastered healing cuts and lacerations within a month. She moved on to sprains and twists. First she read about those types of injuries: what they were, how they happened, how they were supposed to heal. Then, while sparring with Sam (who was not a spy or super-soldier, and therefore the least likely to suspect something), she "slipped" and twisted her own ankle. 

Dear God, that _hurt_. She went down with a cry, clutching her leg. Sam was instantly on her, soothing her and tugging up her pants to get a better look. He hissed. "Yeah, that looks bad. I'll get you some ice. Don't move, okay?" 

When he left, she sat up and studied her ankle. With her magic, she put all the ligaments back into alignment. She didn't realize Sam had come back and was watching her until she was done, flexing her foot. 

"Did it work?" he asked. 

"Let's see." She accepted his hand to stand up and gingerly put her weight on it. There was a dull throb of pain, but it'd probably be gone in a day or two. "Looks like." 

He whistled. "You're gonna be handy to have around."

He was right. Within two weeks, Spider-Man sprained his wrist on a mission, a horrible injury for someone who relied on slinging webs. She had it healed in two minutes and sent him back into the fray. Peter and--surprisingly--Tony's heartfelt thank-you kept her warm for days.

\--

Burns were the worst. But she got the hang of it. 

Vision rubbed his fingers over the small but visible burn scar on her upper leg. She waved it away. "Got singed during that fight with the fire-breathing sea creatures. Didn't even notice until we got back."

"I'm glad you're okay," he said, giving it a kiss, before moving up her body.

\--

Wanda sighed and stopped the scarlet magic. Disappointment and guilt stabbed her in the stomach. "Sorry, Peter. Seems I can't heal sickness." 

The sick teen flopped back on the bed. It was his spring break, and he'd decided to spend it with the Avengers training. But now, his face was flush with fever, sweat soaked through his pajamas, and the trash bin by his bed had already needed to be cleaned out twice. Everyone had been surprised when he caught sick, but apparently it was a doozy of a virus. "Meh," he said. "A for effort."

"Let's get you some water. If you're up for it later, you can have crackers." 

"Ginger ale?" 

"Sure, Peter." 

She found a can of ginger ale in the fridge, frowning when she realized it was the last one. And Peter was the only one who drank it, so there would be no others in the compound. 

Oh, wait! Vision was out walking Lucky. What was the use of having a boyfriend if you couldn't make him buy you stuff? "FRIDAY, can you send a text to Viz for me? Tell him we need ginger ale for a sick spider." 

"Sent, Miss Maximoff."

"Thank you." She returned to the bedroom. "Here. Drink at least half--slowly--before you go back to sleep." 

"M'kay." Peter obeyed, but didn't lean back into bed, despite his obvious exhaustion. "Wanda, can I ask a favor?" 

"What's up?" 

"Um...so, I get nightmares. And this fever's making them worse. I heard you could do stuff with dreams. Can you...uh...I don't even know. Do a thing?" 

Wanda smiled and brushed her hand across his sweaty brow. "Sure thing, Peter. Lie back." 

When he was safely down, Wanda let threads of scarlet weave through her fingers and Peter's mind, searching for warmth and comfort, love and quiet joy. She saw an older man with glasses, helping a younger Peter with a chemistry project. Peter sighed as his eyes fluttered closed. 

She tucked him in, then headed for her room. "FRIDAY, let me know when Peter wakes up. Especially if it's to be sick." 

"Will do, Miss Maximoff." 

She had just sat in her favorite cushiony chair with a book--Sarah J. Maas's _Throne of Glass_ series--when her door burst open and Tony stormed in. He had an Iron Man gauntlet on and armed. "What did you do?" he demanded.

Slowly, she set the book down, eyeing the gauntlet. "You'll have to be a little more specific."

"With Peter! I got an alert that you used your mind-fuckery on him. What the hell, witch?" 

It should not have surprised her that Tony Stark had put that in place. After the mind tricks she'd pulled on the Avengers when they'd been enemies, it'd only make sense that the man who didn't trust her, who feared those powers more than most, would make sure to be alerted whenever she did that with anyone. She buried the hurt that came with that blatant mistrust--it was fully earned--and sighed. "It wasn't like that, not like what I did to you. Peter's been getting nightmares recently and the fever's made it worse. He asked me to give him good dreams. I delivered." 

"You expect me to believe that?" he demanded. 

"Check the security footage. I know each room has cameras for FRIDAY and emergencies. If that doesn't satisfy you, you can ask Peter when he's awake." She motioned to the gauntlet, trying to hide how nervous it made her. "You want to..."

He studied her for a long moment, brown eyes hard with hate and suspicion. He pressed a button on the gauntlet, and it collapsed back into a watch. 

Wanda was just starting to relax when he marched up to her an put a finger in her face. "If I find out you fucked with that boy's mind more than what he expressly consented to, I will kill you. Do not fuck with Peter, or anyone else on this team. You got that, Maximoff?" 

She nodded. Tony stormed out of the room. 

Picking up the book again, she tried to get back into the world of assassins and magic and mystery. After re-reading the same paragraph three times and still not absorbing the words, she slapped the book shut and left the compound.

\--

Peter recovered from the fever within twenty-four hours. FRIDAY kept Wanda posted. The AI also told her that Tony was handling it, that he'd barely left the teen's side. 

Wanda didn't say a word. Just carried on as usual, continuing to care for Lucky, gossip with Darcy, skype with Shuri, train with Steve, and throw snacks at Tony. She was taping a bag of chocolate-covered blueberry treats to the door of his bedroom when he cleared his throat behind her. "Hey, Maximoff." 

She bit back the instinctive, vindictive _Stark_ , and managed to reply with a calm, "Tony." She even handed him the snack rather than just leaving it on the door. "Found these at the store. They're pretty good, though not that healthy." 

"Thanks." He fiddled with the packaging. "Listen, I talked to Peter. And reviewed the footage. Sorry I threatened to kill you." 

There were dozens of responses she could have given that, a lot of them poisonous and hateful. It would have felt good to hurl that right back in his face. Really good. 

She breathed through them, silent for so long that Tony was starting to look a little concerned by the time she finally replied: "Do you get angry when people bring up your past to justify why you can't be a hero?" 

"I get snarky." 

"Which is a cover for your anger. And your hurt," she said. "You've changed. You've done a complete one-eighty. You're a good man, now. I get that. Most of the other Avengers get that, too. I would appreciate it if you would apply the same philosophy to me." 

Tony's surprise was quickly covered by a callous shrug. "Sure. It's only fair." 

Wanda gave a tight smile. "Sure, Tony. Good day."


	7. Chapter 7

About six months after the ex-Rogues' return to the States, they re-started team movie night. Wanda almost broke into a happy dance, even when it turned out to be Natasha who picked the movie. She had notoriously bad taste in films. Only Clint and Tony were brave enough--and funny enough--to openly make fun of it, and Tony left fifteen minutes into it, citing SI worked that needed to be done. Wanda wasn’t sure if that was true, if he was leaving because the movie was that bad, or if he didn’t want to be stuck in a room with the rest of them. 

Halfway through the film, she noticed Steve and Sam biting their lips, faces twisted into laughter and chuckles that they refused to let out. They were tapping their fingers on each other's skin. 

After the movie, she approached them privately. "Were you making fun of the film in Morse code?" 

Sam grimaced. "Don't tell Nat. She scares me."

"Do you know Morse?" Steve asked. 

"No." She brightened. "Teach me?" 

\--

"So Steve and Sam are teaching you Morse code, huh?" Clint asked randomly one morning while he made French toast. 

"Mm-hm. They use it to silently make fun of bad movies." 

Clint paused. "Was that what they were doing?" 

Wanda frowned. "What do you mean?" 

He grinned. "Nothing, my sweet, innocent child. Eat your toast."

\--

"I think Sam and Steve are flirting," Wanda said bluntly. 

Darcy almost choked on her vanilla yo-yo. She was the only one Wanda shared them with. On the screen, Okoye and Nakia both looked interested. 

"Daaaaamn," Okoye said. "That's a pretty picture." 

"Okoye!" Nakia laughed. 

"What? You've seen them." 

Wanda's face turned as red as her magic. Darcy finally recovered. "Twenty bucks says they'll be officially dating in the next month." 

"Deal," Wanda said.

\--

"Steve!" Sam cried as an explosion threw their leader into a fence. 

"I'm on him!" Wanda shouted, running over. They were taking down corrupt scientists who were doing illegal experiments to make humans mutants. It was supposed to be relatively straightforward: just her, Steve, Sam, Nat, and Iron Man. And it had been going well, until one of the buildings in the facility blew up. 

When she reached Steve she almost choked. The man was lying on his back in a daze. The fence had sliced through his upper leg, and blood was gushing out of it. 

"Femoral artery," Wanda realized aloud, and quickly set to work. As she tried to remove the bits of fence, Steve gave a strangled cry. 

Dammit. This needed to be healed up in the next four minutes, or he would bleed to death.

She went to his head, tempted to knock him out, but instead made it so he wouldn't feel pain. He immediately relaxed. She went back to work. Removed the fence from his leg, quickly stitched up the wound before he bled out. He was uncomfortably pale by the time she finished, but still alive. 

"Any other injuries?" she asked. 

"Other than my pride?" He slowly pulled himself to his feet. "I'm good. Thanks. That's...you are literally a life-saver." 

\--

Wanda's self-taught medical lessons continued. She could heal the deepest cuts and lacerations in minutes. Sprains and twists, too. Burns were tricky, but doable. Naturally, the next step was broken bones. 

After extensively reading on bone structure, function, and treatment, she closed herself in her room. Sitting at her desk--now covered in plastic in case this got messy--Wanda contemplated the hammer and local anesthetic before her. She could numb other people to pain, but she hadn't quite gotten the hang of doing it herself, and it always made her loopy. So, she'd swiped the drugs from medical. 

She injected it into her wrist and waited for the drugs to take effect. When they did, she raised the hammer and brought it down on her hand. She felt nothing as the bones of her palm shattered. 

Setting the hammer down, she used magic to scan the damage. Finding the bones that were out of alignment, she moved them back into place, then mended the breaks. It took a while; she should have started with something larger and not so delicate, like her arm. But that would have been too noticeable, and if she'd messed up, she wouldn't have been able to easily excuse it. When she finally got all of her fingers and hand moving perfectly, she grinned. 

She didn't notice Natasha silently creeping out of her room. 

\--

The next day, FRIDAY asked Wanda to come to the living room for an emergency team meeting. Even Clint was there, despite the fact that he had gotten two weeks off to spend with his family. She sprinted into the room, skidding against the floor and almost knocking into Steve's abs. "What is it? I didn't hear anything on the news and the Avengers alarm hasn't gone off..." 

That's when she realized that nobody was in their gear. No weapons, no armor. Just grim expressions. 

She sputtered. "I thought this was a call to assemble!" 

"No," Natasha said. "This is an intervention." 

It took a lot of effort, but Wanda managed not to look at Tony. He was the only one in their group that struggled with alcoholism. Of course, he hadn't fallen off the wagon as far as she knew...

"Okay..." Wanda said. "For who?" 

"You." 

"Me?" She blinked. "I don't have a drug or alcohol problem."

"Interventions do not require substance abuse, though that is the most common reason for it," Vision said. 

"Then what..." 

Tony thrust a Starkpad at her. "Care to explain this?" 

It was surveillance videos of the compound. Specifically, in Wanda's room. Over a dozen of them cutting, spraining, and burning herself.

"What's there to explain?" she asked. "I'm trying to figure out how to heal injuries with my powers. I can't do that if there aren't any injuries to heal." 

There was a long pause. Wanda was pretty sure that if she strained hard enough she could hear her teammate's heartbeats. 

Finally, Tony spoke: "And the reason you didn't ask for access to something like human cadavers is because..." 

"My abilities don't work on the dead. There needs to be some life in the body for it to work."

"Animal experimentation."

"Anatomical and physiological differences. Healing a rat is a far cry from healing a human." 

"At least the rat doesn't involve you breaking your own hand," Sam said. "You understand there's a serious issue there, right?”

"No," she said. "After all, I'm the only one who's getting hurt and I heal myself...how did you find out about this, anyway?" 

"I came to your room to borrow a book," Natasha said. "I walked in on you breaking your hand. You didn't even flinch." 

"I _do_ use painkillers."

"So what next?" Clint demanded. "This has only been escalating. Now that you're at the point of _breaking bones_ , what the hell do you plan to do next? Damaged organs? Amputations?" 

"Can't do organs. There's no way for me to damage my own _and_ heal them, and I refuse to do that to anyone else," Wanda said. 

A beat. Then he said, "I noticed you didn't say anything about amputations." 

There was a slight squirming in her gut, though she refused to back down. "Well, if I were to go that route, then I'd test it on my toes..." 

The response was a collection of groans, face-palms, and sickly expressions. Clint especially looked like he should probably start looking for a bucket. 

Wanda huffed, crossing her arms. "You understand these little experiments have _helped_ you, right? In the field? Whenever you're injured?" She pointed to Peter. "Sprained wrist." Natasha. "Bullet to the shoulder." Steve. "Slice to your femoral artery. If we'd been forced to wait until medical, you would have been dead." 

"And I'm grateful for that," Steve said carefully. "But there's gotta be a better way. A way that doesn't jeopardize your health and body." 

"Well, it's _my_ body, and I don't particularly care what happens to it along the way." 

She shouldn't have said that. She got a lot of pinched, pained looks in response. 

Until now, Peter had been silent. Now, the teenager looked at Natasha. "Hey, Nat. Can I borrow one of your knives to slice open my wrist? I need to test out my healing factor." 

Natasha shrugged. "Well, since this is apparently a thing we're allowing now, I don't see why not." 

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Wanda said. 

"What is?" Peter asked innocently. 

"You pretending to make plans to hurt yourself to test your powers the way I am." 

"Who said I'm pretending? I've been curious about my healing factor for a while, and finding out how much blood I can lose before I pass out sounds like something we as a team should be aware of, right?" 

The adults shifted uncomfortably, or in Tony's case, went very, very still. Wanda gritted her teeth. "That's different." 

"You can't have it both ways," Vision said gently. 

She rubbed her face and groaned. It just figured: the first time all of the Avengers agree on something outside of saving the world, and it was to yell at her and micromanage her life. 

"I'm not going to stop learning," she said at last. "This is a life-saving skill, but it is that: a skill. I have to practice it. Otherwise someone's going to get a horrible injury that I have the ability to heal but no knowledge of how to do it." 

"Agreed," Tony said, making everyone stare at him. "FRIDAY, call Dr. Stephen Strange." 

Wanda frowned. "Dr. who?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Dr. Strange," the man in the dark blue robe and red cloak introduced himself, shaking Wanda's hand. His own were shaking and scarred. "Neurosurgeon and sorcerer." 

Wanda blinked. "Tony hates magic. How do you know him?" 

Dr. Strange gave a rueful smile. "When I still practiced medicine we ran into each other at a few conferences and galas, and I've worked with Helen Cho on several occasions. I wouldn't call me and Stark friends, but we respect each other. I consulted him on his...er, 'BARF' technology. Now, I understand you have similar magic to mine and need to learn a few things in my field."

Wanda told him what she knew how to do--leaving out the part as to _how_ she'd learned it, given that it was apparently such a big deal--and what she needed to know. Dr. Strange listened patiently, then nodded. "Admittedly, I specialize in the brain and head injuries. But I have a general knowledge of the rest of the body and know how to use magic to hold a patient over until they get more professional help in a pinch. How do you feel about cadavers?" 

"What about them?" 

"Dissecting them and watching autopsies. You're not squeamish, are you?" 

Wanda snorted. "I grew up in a war zone and got my powers from Hydra, Doctor. Blood and shit were the norm." 

He gave a sharp nod. "Good." 

"What about healing the injuries themselves? I'll need to practice, and I can't do that on the dead." 

She'd expected that to stump him. Instead, he smirked. "We have artificial bodies at the Sanctum. Essentially our equivalent of CPR dummies. They're not perfect. In fact, they can be rather finnicky at times. But they're good for training."

Well, shit. Seemed she should've gone to Tony for help a long time ago. She smiled. "When do we start?" 

"Tomorrow."

\--

She only saw and worked directly with Dr. Strange once a week, usually meeting at a morgue while one of his colleagues cut open whatever fresh body had come in. But he provided so much reading material for her to go through that she was working on it every day. She scared the hell out of FRIDAY and the other Avengers when the AI saw her reading the assigned articles and texts about lungs. Clint watched her like a hawk, pun intended, and she felt FRIDAY's--and, by extension, Tony's--eyes on her whenever she was in the compound. But other than the odd papercut or stubbed toe, she didn't hurt herself again. She didn't have to. 

Months passed. She usually brought snacks to her weekly sessions with the doctor, whatever was left after the Avengers and Darcy. Dr. Strange let her read a few tomes on magic that he thought would be helpful, in addition to everything he assigned her about anatomy and surgery. 

She knew she was set when, during a battle, she was healing a civilian who'd gotten impaled on a pole, cutting through the small intestine. She'd treated him, despite the EMTs telling her to refrain from removing the pole. They had started screaming at her, then Tony had touched down and told them to back off while she did her thing. Fifteen minutes later, their civilian was walking with only a rough scar to show what had happened.

That week's lesson with Dr. Strange had not been a lesson. Instead, he'd brought a bottle of champagne. "Well done," he said. She couldn't stop smiling for days afterwards.


	9. Chapter 9

After Fury dropped the bombshell in his trademark dramatic fashion, the Avengers looked at one another. The team (sans Peter, who had school) was in the living room, Fury on screen. Steve licked his lips. "Are you sure?" 

"The French officials are," Fury said. "It was his body in the cell that blew up." 

"I knew a guy who pulled a stunt like that to fake his death," Tony said. 

"Except this was a prison that has been deemed inescapable." 

"Like the Raft?" 

"Well, unlike the ex-Rogues, Zemo doesn't have a billionaire genius to help him escape, now, does he?" 

Half of the Avengers stared at Tony, who shrank a little in the couch. 

"Stark," Steve said earnestly. "I didn't..." 

"Really?” Tony snapped. “You honestly think I'd leave you guys there to rot? Fuck you very much." 

Sam cleared his throat. "Guys? The matter at hand?" 

"I don't like it," Natasha said. "It's Zemo." 

"Who has been confirmed dead by three different examiners," Fury said. "Dental records confirm it." 

"Could be faked." 

"Or they could be bribed," Clint muttered.

"Well..." Wanda said at length. "It's not like he can do anything." 

"What do you mean?" Vision asked. 

"I mean, it's not like any of us are keeping any major, life-altering secrets from each other anymore, right?" 

Tony glared at Steve. Steve met his gaze. 

To everyone's surprise, Sam was the one who raised his hand. "Define life-altering." 

"Schoolyard crushes do not count."

"Schoolyard crushes totally _do_ count," Tony said. "Who is it, Wilson?" 

Sam looked away, whistling. 

"Point being," Wanda said, "Zemo can't hurt us if he doesn't have any ammunition. Ammunition that _we_ would be the only ones capable of giving him by the way we treat each other. I know we're not best friends, but we should have at least learned our lesson the first time around." 

"He could try to frame us for something," Natasha mused. "That's what I would do." 

"That's what he _did_ do with Barnes," Vision agreed. 

"Right. Everyone agree not to blow up any buildings in the near future?" Clint asked. 

"Outside of battle, sure," Tony said. 

"Well, duh."

"Right," Fury huffed. "That's the news. Now, get your asses to London. We've got word of a new terrorist over there who will be striking soon. Electrical powers. Creates robots. Goes by the name Dr. Doom." 

Clint sputtered. "Doctor what-now? That’s just stupid, I mean--you know what? Never mind."

"Suit up," Steve ordered.

\--

Wanda used to find the banter during battles annoying. Things were blowing up, catching fire, destroying homes and lives and people, and these guys dared to crack jokes?

Now, as she destroyed a handful of vicious robots, she found it soothing. Now, she could identify it as a coping mechanism. Now, they were comfortable enough with each other, again, to start giving tentative cracks. And for her, it let her know that her teammates were still breathing. 

"'Dr. Doom'? Really?" Tony asked. "Seriously. He's not even trying." 

"Better than the God of Mischief," Natasha grumbled. 

"Speak for yourself," Clint retorted. "'Dr. Doom' is _way_ more pretentious than...uh-oh." 

"Clint?" 

"Need air evac in ten seconds." 

"Falcon," Steve ordered. 

"I'm on the other side of the city." 

"Iron Man." 

"Little busy," Tony grunted. 

"Vision." 

"Dodging--ach!--electricity from Doom." 

"Scarlet Witch?" 

Wanda couldn't reply right away. She sent a burst of energy to half a dozen "doombots" that were charging her. It was like Ultron all over again. She cringed, trying not to think of that. 

"Scarlet Witch!"

"Sixty seconds," she huffed, and started sprinting.

"You have four," Clint said. The tremor of fear in his voice was almost undetectable. 

She ran faster, cursing the fact that they were in London's burning, winding streets rather than the simplicity and familiarity of New York. Also, Spider-Man was in New York. And there were no doombots in New York. 

Really, New York was just a great place to be right now. London? Not so much. 

They'd already been fighting for two hours, alongside the British troops and Scotland Yard who were still evacuating the citizens. The robots just kept coming and coming. This Dr. Doom character had to have been planning this for years.

Wanda watched, almost in slow-motion, as the building Clint was perched on crumbled. It was "only" eight stories. Enough that, when she finally made it to the bloody mess on the sidewalk, she did not expect to find a pulse. 

Steve had beaten her to it. She swallowed a sob as she approached. This was _Clint_ , the man who'd become a big brother, even a father figure to her. And it looked like every bone in his body was broken. There was surprisingly little blood, but that meant nothing. Steve's mouth was a thin, white line as he checked for a pulse. "Still there," he muttered. "But medical won't be able to get through." 

Wanda perked up. "He's still alive?" 

"For now. But we can't--Wanda?" 

She used the scarlet energy to raise Clint's body, keeping him perfectly still as she moved him to the relative safety of the closest intact building. "Cover me," she ordered. "This'll take a while."

She laid him on the floor of the building--a bank--and used her powers to scan him, cringing as she catalogued all of his injuries. Both legs broken. Right arm broken. Shattered ribcage. Both lungs punctured. One lung collapsed. Ruptured kidneys. Injured liver. Severe concussion. Cracked skull. Broken spine. 

Fuck. The spine was going to be a problem. 

Wanda closed her eyes and took a breath. What was it Dr. Strange had told her? Triage. Tackle most immediate problems first. 

Well, he couldn't breathe. That was a pretty immediate problem. 

Wanda started on his lungs, specifically the one that was collapsed. As soon as that was taking in oxygen, the kidneys acted up. She healed those next. Then the other lung collapsed. She un-collapsed it, then dug the bits of ribs out of both of them, piecing the ribcage back together. Once he was finally breathing steady, she checked on the concussion. It'd gotten worse; his brain was bleeding, pressing against the skull. She sorted that out, wishing Dr. Strange was here and not in another dimension because this was _way_ more his area than hers. Once his brain wasn't in danger of leaking out of his ears, she mended his skull. Now, the liver. Not as bad as she'd feared, mostly just bruising. The legs were next: the left femur, then the right tibia. Next, the arm. That one was important. If she messed that up, he'd never shoot again, and it was broken at the elbow, such a tricky area. She took his wrist and tested it once she was done, just to make sure. Seemed fine. Finally, the spine. Specifically, the fifth vertebrae down from his neck needed to be popped back into place, then the spinal cord that had been disrupted needed to be smoothed over. 

It took four and a half hours. She hadn't even noticed. Her entire world had narrowed down to healing Clint, tackling one injury after another. The fight outside had gotten harder with two Avengers out of the picture, but by the time Wanda zoned back in it seemed they were down to the last twenty or thirty doombots. 

"How's he doing?" Steve asked, his boots scuffing against the floor as he approached. His uniform was a lot dirtier than the last time she’d seen it.

"Let's find out," she said. She put a hand on Clint's forehead. "Wake up." 

His eyelids fluttered opened. His pupils were red until she let go, and then he groaned. "Where'd the sky go?" 

"Can you move?" Steve asked. 

"Probably." He raised his arms, wiggled his fingers, shifted his legs, sat up straight. All on his own. "Who caught me?" 

"Uh..." Steve looked between the two of them, flabbergasted. "No one." 

Clint frowned. "That was eight stories." 

"Yup." 

"Pretty sure that's a fatal fall." 

"Yup." 

"So..." He looked to Wanda, who was doing another scan. She giggled when she didn't see a single injury. 

Steve grinned. He picked up Clint's bow and handed it to him. "Looks like you're good to go, Hawkeye."

Clint stood. Wanda poked at his legs, just to make triple sure. "Shit, the sun's almost down. Are there any bad guys left?" he asked. 

"A few. Wanda, you in?" 

"Sure!" She jumped to her feet. "I need to smack Doom over the..." 

The world tilted and turned black. Someone shouted, someone caught her, and then nothing. 

\--

"...ean you don't know? How can you not know?" 

"She's not injured! But her pulse is like a jackrabbit's and she's barely breathing."

"Well, what did you expect? She essentially brought Clint back from the dead." 

"We need to get her to a hospital. Iron Man?" 

"Hand her over." 

Shifting. Flesh arms that had been wrapped around her disappeared, replaced by ones made of metal.

"Hurry back. We've still got Doom to deal with."

"Don't have to tell me twice, Cap." 

A roaring. Then a second type of roaring that brought cold with it. She whimpered. 

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you." 

\--

The next time she woke up was much more permanent. Wanda blinked, recognized the white ceiling and heart monitor for what they were, and groaned. 

"Wakey wakey, rise and bakey." 

Clint. That was Clint in the horrible plastic chair next to her. He had a dark five o'clock shadow and wrinkled civilian clothes. 

It took all of ten seconds for it to come roaring back. She sat bolt upright, almost tipping off of the bed and yanking out her IV. Clint jumped up and caught her. "Easy! Your BP's still in the toilet." 

"You okay?" she demanded. "I didn't miss anything?" 

Clint's face gentled. "Yeah, you did good. Now let's worry about you for a change?" 

"I looked him over myself," a new voice said. 

She hadn't even noticed Dr. Strange in the doorway. The Cape of Levitation waved at her. 

"I thought you were off-dimension," she accused. 

"I was." 

She dropped back into bed with a groan. "How long was I out?" 

"Five days. Surprised it wasn't a week, at least. You had a severe case of mystic exhaustion, using too much magic at once. Consider yourself benched and forbidden from any use of magic for at least a week." 

She groaned again. Clint petted her head.

Dr. Strange pushed himself off of the doorframe. "I'll collect your doctor, and notify your team." 

"Thanks, Doc," Clint called.

Wanda rubbed her face. "Did we get Doom?" 

"Yeah, Viz saw to that. Your boyfriend's scary sometimes, did you know?"

She grinned. 

Clint sat back in his chair. "How you feeling?" 

"Tired," she admitted. "I can't believe I fainted like a damn damsel."

"Don't worry, no one's going to be giving you crap for that. You really scared us." 

She didn't know what to say to that. Had it really been so bad that even Tony wasn't going to tease her?

"I know you said you don't care," he said pensively. "But we do. We care a lot. When you collapsed, I thought you were dead. I thought you'd traded your life for..." He swallowed. 

"It would have been worth it," she said at length. "If that was the price." 

She meant every word. She hadn't known she'd go down after healing him; that had been as much of a shock to her as it'd been to the others. And she hadn't thought it would be anywhere near fatal for her. But if it had been, and if she'd known going in what the consequences were, she'd have done it in a heartbeat. 

He shook his head. "To a certain extent, I get that. We're Avengers. Teammates. I'm pretty sure any of us would gladly give our lives for any of the others. But you've gotta understand. Between you going down and Strange telling us you'd be okay, that was the longest, scariest thirteen hours of my life." 

She squeezed his hand. "Can't get rid of me that easily." 

That earned her a wane smile. "I know. You're like a cockroach that way." 

"Aw, you're too sweet." She pulled her hand away and yawned. "Go home and shave. Your kids won't even be able to recognize you if you keep this up." 

He rubbed his shadow. "I dunno. I'm kind of digging the grunge look." 

"Ugh. We're no longer friends." 

He chuckled and left. Wanda curled up under her blanket and fell asleep with a smile.


	10. Chapter 10

She stayed another twenty-four hours in the hospital for observation, then was released. She had a dozen emails from the "panther peeps." The early ones were thank-yous, and she realized she'd forgotten that she'd sent them presents for T'Challa's birthday, which was considered a national holiday. She'd made them all jewelry: a cat necklace for Shuri, bangles for Nakia, and a handful of rings for Okoye (which doubled as a weapon, because they were thick enough to be considered brass knuckles when worn together). The latter emails were demands about her well-being. Images of her going down and being air-lifted by Iron Man out of the fight in London had gone viral.

At Darcy's direction, she made a quick video of herself and posted it on Instagram, basically saying, "Yes, I'm alive. Still recovering, but I'll be back soon. Have a picture of Lucky in a Captain America costume." 

Steve didn't let her spar, fight, or even lift a magic finger for two weeks. She allowed it for the first week, but after that it became torture. So, she recruited Peter and Clint and took to pranking everyone to fight the boredom. Oreos filled with toothpaste instead of cream. Glitter in the shower-heads. Seran wrap in the doorways. Darcy thought it was hilarious, even when she became collateral when she bit into a donut filled with mayonnaise. 

Then there were memes. Wanda continued to help Darcy find and create appropriate memes, but the golden jewel was when Clint shared with everyone a picture of Cooper and Lila fighting. It took place during Halloween, and Laura had decided to go as Iron Man and Cooper as Cap. 

With Wanda's help, they got a picture of the real Iron Man and Captain America during their fight at the airport, taken from the War Machine camera. Darcy put the two pictures side-by-side with the caption _I see no difference._

Steve didn't find it very funny. He cornered the two of them in the communal area and said, "This is just disrespectful, girls." 

"What's disrespectful?" Tony asked, entering the room. 

Steve showed him his phone. Tony blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh my god, Darcy did you make that?"

"I had Wanda's help," she said with a smug smile. 

"That is _genius_. Well done." 

Steve sputtered. "Stark!" 

"What? Admit it, Cap: the whole 'civil war' schtick happened because we couldn't communicate like adults. Instead, we threw a tantrum in an airport." He started the coffeemaker. "You gotta learn to laugh at yourself a little bit." 

"If it was just a children's tantrum, everything would be back to normal by now." 

Tony paused. "Cap. It's only been a year since you got back." 

"And?" 

"And it's going to take me a hell of a lot longer to trust you. Assuming I ever will." 

"Right back at you," Steve growled. "I was sad about it at first, but I can't tell you how glad I am that Bucky decided to stay in Wakanda. At least it put a whole planet between you two." 

Tony stared at him. "What the _fuck_ does he have to do with this?" 

"Seriously? How about the fact that you almost killed him--you kicked him while he was down!--for something he had no control over and did only because he was the victim of decades' worth of torture and brainwash." 

"And I apologized for that." 

"You liar!" Steve accused. "I didn't hear any apology." 

"Yeah, because I didn't apologize to _you_ ," Tony retorted. "You don't deserve it. You're the one who caused that mess by not telling me. Barnes, though? As soon as I heard he was out of cryo I called T'Challa and asked him to ask Bucky if we could talk. We skyped. I apologized. He apologized. And we're good. We've been good for a year and a half now." 

Steve gaped at him. Wanda and Darcy stayed perfectly still and silent, watching the drama unfold. 

"Now, you?" Tony poked him in the chest. "I understand where you're coming from. If anyone ever tried to do any of that to Rhodey, I'd tear them to pieces. But you can bet your ass that if Rhodey had hurt you the way the Winter Soldier hurt me, I would have told you as soon as I found out. Because you are a reasonable adult and understand words like brainwashed and POW. But apparently, you don't think the same of me. So no, Steve, I don't trust you. Probably never will. I will always wonder what you aren't telling me, if you're lying to me, and in fact, it's a miracle we can even work together in the field."

The coffeemaker dinged. Tony poured his mug and stormed out of the kitchen. 

After a beat, Steve chuckled. "You know. I almost asked him why he didn't tell me about Bucky. Managed to bite my tongue just in time." 

"Smart," Darcy said. "What's your plan, Cap?" 

"I have no idea. I just...I just want us to be friends again." 

Wanda barked a laugh. "Friends? You two were never friends, Steve." 

He frowned. "Sure we were." 

"No, you weren't. Know how I know? You claim Bucky as a friend. When he was in trouble, you defied the will of over a hundred countries, tore apart the Avengers, and went on the run with half of them just to keep him safe. Now, let me ask you this: shortly after the Battle of New York, Tony was attacked by the Mandarin. Where were you?" 

Steve opened his mouth, closed it again. He set his jaw. "Where was he during the Triskelion fiasco?" 

"Looking for you," Darcy said. "He would've helped if you'd asked. Natasha knew that, which was why she asked for his help with the internet dump. He helped extract the SHIELD agents whose covers were blown while on mission." 

"Here's the thing, Steve," Wanda added. "When I met Tony and got into his mind, he considered you two friends. His biggest fear wasn't just failing to save the world. It was letting you down. You, personally. That was why he opened his home to you, built you guys the compound, built your gear, everything. And then you betrayed him." She shrugged. "So now, he no longer considers you friends. _Your_ perception of him never changed, but _his_ perception of _you_ sure did. 

"Right now, you two are teammates. That works. You can keep going like this until Tony retires or one of you is killed in battle. But if you want Tony to start treating you like a friend again, then you've gotta do the same. _You’re_ going to have to make the changes here." She took Darcy by the sleeve and pulled her out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Your call, Cap. Good luck."


	11. Chapter 11

"Maximoff, what did you do?" Tony demanded, storming into the compound's mini movie theater.

It was two weeks after the scene between him and Steve. Wanda was watching _Lord of the Rings_ with Clint, who blinked owlishly between the two of them. 

"About what?" she asked. 

"About Cap! You didn't get into his mind, did you?" 

"Hey," Clint accused. 

Wanda held him back. "It's a fair question. And no, I didn't. Why do you ask?" 

"Because he apologized!" 

They both stared at him. "For...the Accords?" Clint asked. 

" _And_ the mess in Siberia," Tony said. "He said that Wanda inspired him to do it! You--" He pointed to her. "--somehow got Captain Stubborn McRighteous to admit that he was wrong and apologize. Not even the UN, the US government, and a hundred other countries could do that. So what the fuck?" 

Wanda smiled. "I just talked to him. Told him the truth." 

"The truth about what?" 

"That he was a hypocritical jerk, had always treated you like last week's trash, and if he wanted you to treat him like a friend the way you used to, he had to return the favor first." She shrugged. "I honestly didn't expect him to go for it, that he'd be happy to be just teammates, or at least resigned to it." 

Tony stared at her. "Well...I'll--I'll tell you what I told him: this doesn't fix everything. Not even close. Don't expect a fairy tale ending here." 

"How'd he take that?" Clint asked warily. 

"He agreed with me!" he exploded. "Which is the other reason I half-expected brainwashing to be the culprit." 

"No, just common sense," Wanda said. "Now, shush, Eowyn's about to fight the Witch-King and it's my favorite part." 

Tony finally noticed the screen, then plopped on the couch next to her. "Fuck yeah, it is. Good call, Maximoff. You’re picking the movies at team movie night from now on.

She smiled and munched on some popcorn.

\--

Things didn't change, much. But it was still...better. 

Whenever Tony and Steve were in the same room, they still rarely spoke more than a few words to each other outside of debriefings. But it no longer felt like a powder keg ready to go off. Whenever Cap gave an order on the field, there was a better chance Tony would actually follow it. And if he didn't, a better chance that he would explain why. The workout dummies Tony made for the group were no longer boring gray, rather they were presented in a wide variety of colors with evil stick figures; Wanda saw Steve beating on a purple one with relish. 

"You staying?" Wanda asked Darcy as they finished devouring the pie they'd just made. 

"Eh, why not?" she replied. "Seems like a person can actually relax around here, now."

\--

_need you in SI warehouse ASAP. found something. fucking magic._

Wanda double-checked the address Tony had texted her to make sure she was in the right location, frowning at the building in front of her. It was an SI warehouse...but it hadn't been used in years, if not decades. She was half-afraid the thing would collapse if she so much stepped on the wrong bit of floor.

She snapped a picture of it and sent it to Tony, with the text _Is this it?_

The response was immediate. _yup. no casualties in case of accidental ka-boom. hurry up._

Snorting, Wanda climbed out of the car she'd borrowed from Steve and headed for the building. She couldn't stop smiling. Sure, Tony was only calling her because of a possibly dangerous magical...artifact? Person? She was unclear as to the details. But he didn't have to call _her_. He could have just as easily consulted Dr. Strange. Or tried to handle it on his own. Instead, he'd specifically asked for her help.

They were getting somewhere. 

Wanda meandered into the warehouse. The place was huge, and empty. Her voice echoed when she called, "Tony? Where are you?" 

No answer. 

Frowning, Wanda reached out telepathically. 

Also nothing. 

Fuck. This was a trap. 

She turned to leave and found herself face-to-face with the Iron Man armor. 

The repulsor fired before she could react. White-hot pain exploded from her gut, and she landed flat on her back. 

Blinking, trying desperately to stay awake, Wanda could feel the vibration of the Iron Man boots as they stepped closer to her, until the armor was staring down at her. 

"Tony?" she croaked.

"I am sorry about this. I want you to know that." 

That hadn't come from the bot. She craned her neck just as Zemo stepped into view. He had a glowing metal circlet around his head. Must have been blocking her telepathy if she couldn't read his mind. 

"Sorry?" she echoed. "'en call it off." 

He crouched next to her, lifting a finger to brush the hair from her face. "I can't do that. I thought I'd destroyed the Avengers so completely, that even when they were pardoned and reunited I didn't worry. Especially not about you. You were the trigger last time." He tipped his head out of respect. "But it seems you've changed for the better. I really wish you hadn't rejoined the Avengers. You could have been so great." 

Zemo stood and walked for the door, giving a final order to the Iron Man bot: "Finish her. And when you're done, go to the Atlantic for Protocol Icarus."

Rage and pain seared through Wanda's bones. She didn't know how he'd gotten his hands on an Iron Man suit, but she knew what it was for. It would kill her, then leave to self-destruct, leaving no video evidence for anyone else to see what had happened. Not just to kill her, but to blame Tony for it. To use her to start a new Civil War that would ensure that Iron Man couldn't smooth everything over this time. 

The suit raised a repulsor, and Wanda channeled all of her fury at it, wrapping the suit in swirls of scarlet. She screamed when she tore it apart, leaving metal bits scattered around her. 

Well. That was therapeutic. 

No footsteps. Zemo was gone. 

Wanda swallowed, blood bubbling in her throat. She was going to die here. The wound was too much for her to handle before she blacked out and inevitably bled to death. But there was something she could do, something to prevent the war and warn her friends. 

She reached for the ring, the beacon Shuri had given her, and typed out a message. Thank God for Morse code. 

She turned the beacon on for three beats, then shut it off. Turned it on for three more beats, shut it off. One beat, shut it off. One beat, shut it off.

Long, long, short, short. 

_Z_

Short.

_E_

Long, long.

_M_

Long, long, long. 

_O_

Exhausted, dizzy, and satisfied, Wanda let her hands drop to her chest. 

The first thing Shuri would do would be to contact the Avengers, to tell them Wanda was in danger and that Zemo--not Tony--was responsible. 

So they would find her in an abandoned Stark Industries warehouse, just like Zemo wanted. They would quickly and correctly deduce that an Iron Man armor had been responsible for her death, just like Zemo wanted. 

And then they would hunt Zemo down and avenge her. 

Wanda closed her eyes with a smile.


	12. Chapter 12

"...shit shit shit shit shit! FRIDAY, call Strange and emergency services, right now!" 

Metal pain shot from her stomach. She gasped, eyes jerking open. 

The armor loomed over her, its hands on her wound. The armor had hurt her. It was back. 

She choked on a scream, trying to draw up her magic but couldn't create more than a few red sparks. 

"Hey, no." The faceplate pulled back, revealing Tony's pinched, worried face. "It's me. It's not--I'm not--I won't hurt you, okay? In fact, FRIDAY, ditch the suit, send it to the corner." 

The suit peeled itself away from Tony and walked away, leaving just him. Wanda relaxed, sagging into the floor. Her mouth tasted metallic. Red splattered out as she tried to speak, to warn him. 

"No, sweetheart, none of that. Don't try to talk. Help is on its way. You just hold on, okay? Just hang in there." He was putting pressure on her side again, and sending only a dull throb. Not good. Not good at all. 

She snaked her fingers around his wrist and grabbed hold his mind. _I'm sorry,_ she told him, feeling his spike of fear and alarm as if it were her own. 

She showed him the memory of what had happened. That it had been Zemo, that he had a suit, that he had some kind of new technology that blocked her telepathy so who knew what else he had...

 _I know, Maximoff,_ Tony said. Maybe it had been out loud, but she didn't think so. _Wakanda got your message and told us. Nat and Clint are looking for him now. You did good, kid._

Oh. Right. The beacon. Duh. 

Stupid blood loss. Made her loopy. 

_It does that._

"'Bout time, Strange!" Tony barked. "You've got magic voodoo, fix it!" 

Muttering. Bright golden lights. "There's too much damage. I can't..."

"You're a doctor!" 

"We need Wakanda." 

"What?!" 

"They have the technology we need to save her. Give her to me, and I'll teleport her there." 

"Fine. Start a portal." Tony loomed back over her. _Hey, kid, you listening? We're gonna get you somewhere to patch you up._

She couldn't respond. She could barely comprehend the words he was telling her, never mind string together enough of her own to form a coherent sentence. 

_Kid? Come on, don't do this. Don't close those eyes, don't...Wanda!_

\--

When Wanda opened her eyes, it wasn't to Earth. 

For starters, she was in her childhood apartment, which had been razed to the ground with the rest of the city by bombs. Yet everything was as it had been when her parents had been alive: bright walls with funky art that her mother loved, organized chaos because they could never keep the place _clean_ but could at least make sure they found everything, the permanent smell of olive oil and her father's favorite cigarettes. 

Outside the windows was not Sokovia. It was a landscape that glowed a gorgeous violet, eerily beautiful. 

"Not exactly the pearly gates we were raised to believe, but it works." 

She almost fell over when she heard that voice, _his_ voice. Pietro stood in the kitchen with a grin. 

Choking on a sob, Wanda jumped over the couch and tackled him in a hug. Pietro laughed. "You're so much stronger! You'll squeeze my ribs." 

Despite the fact that her ear was right over his chest, she couldn't hear a heartbeat. Of course not. He was dead. 

And now, so was she. 

When they finally pried themselves apart, Pietro wiped her wet cheeks with his thumb. His smile turned sad. "We don't have much time." 

She blinked. "What are you talking about? We're both--" 

"I am. You're not." 

Wanda opened her mouth, but no words came. 

"Stark and what's-his-name with the cloak got you to Wakanda. They had to give you that magic glowing herb, which is why..." He motioned to the apartment. 

Wanda found herself both incredibly relieved and sharply disappointed. She let out a breath, and it quivered. "The herb's not magic. It's science." 

"Sure. Definitely magic." 

She gave a wet laugh. "Pietro..." 

"It _glows_ , Wanda! And turns you half cat with accelerated healing. Ergo, magic." 

She rested her forehead against his collarbone. "You're impossible." 

"And you're weird," he said, wrapping his arms around her again. He kissed her forehead. "And I am so proud of you." 

Her lips quivered. She sniffed. 

"Tell Stark I said sorry, yeah? He's still an asshole, but...you know." 

She gave herself seven long seconds before forcing herself to pull back. She wiped her face and nodded. "Okay." 

It was like a rope dropped around her chest and _yanked_. She was hauled out of the ancestral plane and back into her--very painful--body. Which was buried. Sand fell from her chest and hair as she surged forward, gulping down air, and a small part of her bemoaned the fact that she was never going to get it all out. 

Someone grabbed her in a hug, and for a second she thought it was Pietro. But that was long, black hair, not short, silver hair. And black skin. And boobs. Not Pietro. 

"You're okay!" Shuri cheered, pulling back and looking Wanda up and down. "You're okay, right? How are you feeling? Can you feel everything? How many fingers am I holding up?" 

Wanda coughed, spitting out more sand. "I'm fine? Yes, I can feel everything and it _hurts_. Three fingers. Why am I in sand?"

"It was the only way to save you," said a rich, cultured voice. T'Challa stood on the edge of the sand pit in his black robe that made him look ten feet tall. "The heart-shaped herb only works when you're buried, so you can be reborn."

Hmmm...maybe Pietro had a point in that it was magic. 

On either side of T'Challa was Okoye, Nakia, and Bucky--of course--and Dr. Strange, which was a surprise. Though maybe not, considering he was the only way she could have gotten here in time to be saved. Dr. Strange approached and knelt in the sand, checking her over. "I patched you up the best I could with magic, but Shuri and the herb did the rest. Let me..." 

She didn't move as he pressed his hands against her abdomen. Everything was back in place. No blood, no guts. Just a big-ass scar. 

"Bye-bye, bikini," she muttered. 

"Yes, I'm sure you'll look horrible in it now," Dr. Strange said dryly. He took her pulse, then her blood pressure, then pulled out a penlight and checked her pupils. After a minute, he nodded and stood, offering her a hand. "You seem to be in working order." 

He helped her to her feet, then had to keep her upright as the world gave a dangerous tilt. Shuri, whose height was much more accommodating, pulled Wanda's arm around her shoulders. Okoye sighed, but didn't protest her princess doing "manual labor." 

"The Avengers?" Wanda asked as they helped her out of the sacred garden. On any other day, she would have been awed and honored to be in such a place. Now, she just wanted to get horizontal. And clean. Fucking sand. 

"Looking for Zemo," Bucky said. "Stark especially had a few choice words when we called. Romanov and Rogers came up with a strategy, basically letting Zemo think his plan is working." 

"As far as anyone else knows, you're dead," Okoye said bluntly. "You are not here, and there is a public investigation into the murder underway, with Stark as the primary suspect." 

"You'll be staying in the lower levels," T'Challa said. "Take your time recovering. If you get stir-crazy, we'll have Strange find you somewhere else."

"Here's fine," Wanda said around a yawn. "Here has yo-yos." 

"Bath, first," Nakia instructed.

They led her to a small room. Not the suite she'd stayed in before, but a small motel-like room. It had a bed and a bath, which was all she cared about. T'Challa, Okoye, and Bucky left. Dr. Strange stuck around long enough to see her stripped and catalogue the remains of her injuries one more time, his impersonal doctor's eye twitching at the scars and bruises. He left. Shuri and Nakia stayed to make sure Wanda didn't accidentally drown. 

"Don't you have...royal...things to do?" Wanda murmured, the warm water lulling her to sleep. She was pretty sure "royal treatment" did not mean literally being treated by royalty. 

"They will wait," Shuri said. "Don't fall asleep yet."

Once she was washed, the women helped Wanda get out, dry off, and into some pajamas. Nakia let Wanda lean on her while Shuri drew back the covers on the bed. Wanda sat on the edge, letting them fuss while the events of the last handful of hours played out in her mind again and again. 

"Wanda?" Nakia asked, tipping her chin up. "What's wrong?" 

She was crying again. Wanda swallowed. "I saw Pietro." 

Nakia's face softened. She gently pulled Wanda forward until her face was resting against the queen's stomach. Wanda hugged her, and Shuri when the princess sat next to her. They let her quietly fall apart until she ran out of tears. By then, she couldn't open her eyes for the life of her. One of them guided her into the bed while the other tucked her in. 

"Sleep now," Nakia said. "It'll be better in the morning."


	13. Chapter 13

Wanda slept through most of the next forty-eight hours. When she was fully recovered, she found out that there were a few side-effects to her treatment. 

"Yeah, we figured that would happen," Bucky said, after she'd lifted hundreds of pounds in the gym. As much as a super-soldier. Or a Black Panther. "Now that you're recovered, T'Challa will probably insist on having those powers stripped away." 

Wanda stilled. "Will it effect _my_ powers?" 

He shook his head. "Nah. I asked Shuri to check. Just the ones given to you by the heart-shaped herb." 

She let out a gusty breath in relief. The Black Panther powers were cool, but not her. She was the Scarlet Witch, and she was more than happy with that. 

T'Challa arrived later that day to administer the black potion himself. "This will feel like a charging rhino," he warned. He was right. If Wanda hadn't been sitting on the couch when she'd drunk it, she would have collapsed.

On day three of her stay, she stumbled into the few common areas she was allowed in, a rarely-used parlor in the lower levels of the palace. Bucky had summoned her before the sun was even up. What the hell?

He was already in the room, sitting at a desk with a computer, scowling at it. "Yes, this line is secure. What do you take me for?" 

"A sadist," Wanda grumbled. She used her powers to steal the coffee next to his elbow, slurping it down. She made a face. "You put cream in this?" 

"And sugar."

"Heathen!" 

"Thief." He stood and maneuvered her to the computer, sitting her down. 

She was about to ask what the hell this was all about--and point out that if he didn't want her stealing his coffee, he shouldn't have kicked her out of bed so early--when her questions were answered for her. 

"Wanda! You're okay!" 

She blinked. On screen were all of the Avengers, calling from three different locations. Steve, Clint, Natasha, and Sam were all in the quinjet. Tony and Vision were in some sort of vacation house somewhere in Europe. Peter and Darcy were in the Avengers compound, with Lucky sniffing Peter's shirt.

Wanda grinned. "Hey, guys. Hi, Lucky!" 

The dog perked up at her voice, and his nose blocked the computer before Peter pulled him back. "See, Luck? She's okay. Now you can stop sulking and go back to gnawing on the furniture." 

"No, that mutt is _not_ allowed to gnaw at my furniture," Tony scolded. 

"Your furniture is Hulk-proof, Thor-proof, and super-soldier-proof, Mr. Stark. A dog doesn't stand a chance." 

"It's the principle of the matter!"

"How you feeling, kid?" Clint asked, drawing their attention back to Wanda. 

"Bruised. Grumpy. Wondering why we're doing this at..." She checked the time. "...five in the morning, Bucky? Really?"

"Just steal more coffee. That solves everything," Tony suggested. 

"Don't encourage her," Bucky scolded as he, ironically, poured and then gave her another mug of coffee. And a bag of chocolate yo-yos. She tore the bag open and dunked one in the coffee.

Peter grimaced. "Ewww..." 

"Shut up," Wanda scolded, taking a defiant bite.

"Wanda, tell Shuri I'm gonna kill her," Darcy said. "She didn't even tell me you were alive! I had to find out from spider-twerp over here." 

She winced. "Needs must. Speaking of, have we found Zemo?" 

"We're on our way now," Steve said. "He's in Japan of all places. Natasha convinced the locals to let us handle it."

Tony huffed. "Should've let me handle him." 

"You can't, Tony. You're still the prime suspect in Wanda's 'murder,' remember?" 

The genius grumbled something about stupid spies and schemes. 

It did not pass Wanda's notice that Steve called him Tony. Not Stark. Tony. She hid her grin behind another swallow of coffee and asked, "How did he even get the armor, anyway?" 

Tony's face darkened. "While we were busy with Dr. Doom. He pulled the same trick as last time: killed one of the janitorial staff to replace him and gain access. He had some surgery done so FRIDAY's facial recognition wouldn't work on him. Hacked into my _phone_ so he could isolate our text messages and lure you there..."

"None of which is your fault, Tony," she said gently. 

He gaped at her, then at the others when they didn't rush to blame him anyway. They even nodded their heads in agreement. 

"We're five minutes out," Sam said before anymore feelings could be seen. "Get some rest. This'll be over soon." 

"And bring back some of those yo-yos!" Darcy ordered. 

"I can either get you the yo-yos or kill Shuri. Not both," Wanda said. 

Darcy pretended to mull it over, then sighed. "Yo-yos."

"Good choice," Bucky said over Wanda's shoulder. 

"Take care of our girl, Barnes," Natasha called. "We need her in one piece." 

"Damn, Nat. That's practically a love letter coming from you," Tony teased. 

"I refuse to be the only woman on this team again. This is a big enough sausage fest as it is." 

"Okay, I'm done," Peter declared, leaving his computer. Darcy called him a baby before ending the call. 

"Be careful with Zemo," Wanda warned the group on the quinjet. "He had some sort of device around his head that blocked my telepathy. If he can get his hands on that and a suit..." 

"We'll be careful," Steve promised. 

"...and you know he always has something else planned, some ulterior motive. Do we even know what his backup plan is supposed to be? I mean--"

"Wanda," Tony interrupted. 

The sound of her name from that man made her want to simultaneously shut her mouth and drop her jaw in shock. 

"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," he said. "It's not going to end up like last time. Promise." 

"We even did a check," Steve said. "Made sure nobody was keeping any major secrets from each other that could be used to exploit us."

Sam huffed. "Not exactly the way I'd imagined propositioning Captain America..." 

"I knew it!" Bucky shouted, so suddenly Wanda almost dropped her coffee. He leaned over her shoulder to poke at the camera. "I knew you were making googley eyes at each other!"

"Oh, you think that was bad?" Tony asked. "They are a million times worse now. They've only been dating for three days--just seventy-two hours!--and half of us have already walked in on them making out. It's horrible!"

"You really need to learn to knock," Sam said, the same time Wanda asked, "What part of that is horrible?"

Steve turned beet red. Natasha barked a laugh. "My thoughts exactly." 

"All right, I'm ending this. We touch down in two minutes," Clint said. "See you soon, Wanda." 

"Break his heart, Wilson, and I'll send the Dora Milaje after you," Bucky warned. "Okoye owes me a favor." 

"Buck, be nice," Steve scolded. "Team Alpha out."

Wanda waved as Steve's group cut out, leaving only Tony and Vision.

"You all right, Viz?" she asked. He hadn't said anything. 

Tony glanced up at him. Vision gave a tiny smile. "Just...I'm very glad you're all right." 

"Me, too." 

Tony sighed and stood. "I'll leave you lovebirds at it. Just remember, this line may be secure, but it's also being monitored. Try not to emotionally scar whatever Wakanda's version of the NSA is." 

"We don't have an NSA, we believe in free speech and privacy," Bucky said. 

"Says the head of Wakanda's international spy network." 

"I didn't say we were perfect." 

Tony left. Bucky left the room, too. Wanda and Vision talked until long after the sun came up, until Steve called to say they had Zemo with no casualties, until she finally felt like everything would be okay.


	14. Chapter 14

The re-capture of Zemo, the revelation that the Scarlet Witch was alive and well, and the fact that the Avengers were not the unstable ticking time bomb everyone had feared all made international headlines for weeks. Wanda did a live online interview from the safety of Wakanda while they investigated Zemo, making sure that they hadn't overlooked some subtle, deadly part of his plan. Darcy and Nakia had both coached her ahead of time, and though it was exhausting, it was also satisfying. 

The interviewer's last question was, "What are you looking forward to the most about your return to the States?" 

"My dog," was Wanda's immediately reply, the one that got the chuckles and left a good, light feeling for the viewers. 

In truth, she was looking forward to everything. Cooking meals for her friends--her family--with Clint, Viz, and Darcy. Medical lessons with Dr. Strange. Tapping out Morse code messages to Steve and Sam to make fun of whatever horrible movie Natasha swore was Oscar-worthy. Pranking others with Peter. Bugging Tony with snacks. Everything. 

Dr. Strange was the one who brought her back, using his portals. Okoye and Bucky both gritted their teeth, but since this was how the doctor had brought a bleeding, dying Wanda to safety so quickly--by dropping her right in Shuri's lab and scaring the genius princess half to death--they didn't say anything. Shuri and Nakia both hugged her good-bye. She bowed to T'Challa, just to get him flustered, and then hugged him, too. 

She knew the sorcerer would bring her back to the compound. She did not anticipate stumbling into a surprise welcome home party. All the Avengers practically pounced on her, swarming her in a group hug. By the time they let her go, she was both laughing and crying. 

Darcy had made cupcakes. Lots and lots of cupcakes. 

"FRIDAY kind of stole your recipe and gave it to me," she admitted. Wanda took a bite and moaned. FRIDAY was totally forgiven. 

Despite the effort that had gone into the party--the food, the banner hanging from the wall that shouted _Welcome Back, Witch!_ (with "witch" very clearly originally spelled with a B that was exed out and replaced with the W), and the fact that even temporary Avengers that Wanda didn't know very well like Scott and Rhodes were there--they spent the majority of the day being incredibly lazy. Watched bad movies. Played Cards Against Humanity. Cuddled Lucky.

Perfect. 

\--

About a week later, Wanda went down to Tony's workshop with a small bag of homemade trail mix and some tape. She was sticking it to the usual spot when the door opened. The sounds of rock and welding clashed, and she could see Tony hard at work on...something.

She blinked. "FRI?" 

"Boss wants to see you." 

"...in there?" 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Her hands were shaking. She tucked them in her pockets and stepped into the workshop. 

The music stopped. Tony finished whatever it was he was doing while Wanda was greeted by a beeping robotic arm with wheels. 

"That's DUM-E," he said. "Don't drink whatever he gives you. It usually has motor oil in it. Okay, this way." 

He walked over to the other side of the 'shop, forcing Wanda to trail after him. 

"Is everything okay?" she asked. 

He blinked at the question. "'Course it is. Why wouldn't it be?" 

She hesitated, half-afraid that voicing the obvious would remind him that she wasn't supposed to be here and therefore kick her out. "It's just...no one but Rhodes and Miss Potts are allowed down here."

Tony ticked off his fingers. "Rhodey, Pepper, Peter, Viz, and now you. With proper invitation, of course. Don't just barge in. Unless you have some of those chocolate mocha muffins. Those are divine. Would totally sell you my company for a lifetime supply." 

Wanda couldn't reply around the lump in her throat. She swallowed it down as they reached their destination. It was a box, one of those used for Christmas or birthday presents that held clothing, with a big red ribbon. Tony gestured to it. "Go on." 

She carefully opened it, and lifted a crimson jacket. It was similar to the one that had been destroyed by Zemo, but longer. 

She grinned, slipping it on. "Ohhh, so comfy! And there are real pockets! This is..." 

A repulsor whined. Before she could move, Tony put a gauntlet to her back and fired. 

The blast knocked her into the table. But the blood and pain that had accompanied the last hit she'd taken...didn't occur. 

Wanda peaked down at herself. No wound. 

Then she whirled on Tony. "What the _fuck_?" 

"I borrowed some vibranium," he said, deactivating the repulsor on his hand back into a watch. "Shuri and I agreed that you needed a bit of an upgrade." 

Wanda peeled off the jacket and held it up. She couldn't see any trace of the repulsor blast, wouldn't believe it had been the victim of such an assault. She let out a long breath, then smiled ruefully. "Next time, just tell me that. Don't scare me half to death." 

He shrugged. "More fun this way." 

"Yeah, 'fun,'" she grumbled, putting the jacket back on. She wanted to hug him, but he didn't like being touched. "You didn't have to do this, but thank you."

"Yeah, well..." He played with a little wrench. "I should probably tell you, it's only fair, after all, but in the warehouse when you connected our minds--"

"Sorry about that," she said. She knew he was still twitchy about that kind of thing. 

"--I think you screwed up because it wasn't just you in my head. I was also in yours." 

She blinked. "You were?" 

"Yeah. And I've known, intellectually, for a while now that you've changed and that you care about the team and all. But I could _feel_ it while I was there. You would have rather gnawed your own hands off than let us hurt each other again. So...yeah. I don't know. There's no moral to that story. Just...try not to get shot again. I'm the old man here. You should outlive me by at least a decade." 

She beamed, then decided to screw it and snatched him in a hug. "Thanks, Tony."

His arms settled around her shoulders, and his cheek brushed against her hair. "You're welcome, Wanda."

**Author's Note:**

> Self-Harm: Wanda hurts herself a variety of ways to learn how to use her powers for healing (much like how she healed Vision when he got stabbed in Infinity War). This includes cutting, twisting her ankle, mentions of her burning herself, and a scene where she breaks her own hand.


End file.
